


Lagopus leucura

by vandal_aria



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Camping, Caretaking, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Injury, M/M, Slice of Life, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27960464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandal_aria/pseuds/vandal_aria
Summary: A winter-themed addition to the Arcadia for Amateurs quest line set during chapter 6.  Albert and Arthur come to realize they care for each other.
Relationships: Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Mistletoe Exchange 2020





	Lagopus leucura

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/gifts).



> Content warning: heavily implied terminal illness

Looking back, Albert knew there was another trail, a _safer_ trail, one without several inches of hidden ice. He could picture the multiple sets of deer tracks breaking through the shallow drifts and relatively low incline along the mountain rather than straight up the side. But he didn’t take that trail, he took _this_ trail, because the viewshed had potential, and ended up back at the bottom with a turned ankle and a broken tripod. He’d unintentionally managed to shield the camera with his body, hitting his ribs against a large rock. 

Albert lay on the ground, feeling melting snow start seeping through his pants. He was too rattled to try to moving, though he knew he shouldn’t stay too still too long in this weather, especially with the shadows getting long. He allowed himself several minutes to recover before attempting to sit up. His ribs hurt, but thankfully not near enough to be broken.

There was a squirrel staring at him, twitching its ears. “I don’t suppose you could get my horse, little one?” Albert said to the animal, and laughed weakly at himself. “What a mess.”

With one gloved hand, Albert prodded at his ankle; even through the boot, he could feel it was starting to swell. “Damn.” If he could just make it to his horse, perhaps he could get off the mountain before it was fully dark, but the old beast was nibbling at some bushes far out of reach and thoroughly ignoring him.

Albert reached for the rock—it was big enough that he could use it to help himself stand. When he did so, however, walking without support proved to be a realer problem than he had imagined. He sat down on the rock to reevaluate. If he hadn’t been in real danger of freezing to death alone on a mountain, he might have thought his ongoing haplessness as an adventurer amusing.

There was a tree about ten feet away, in the direction of his horse. It was a start. He could crawl, if necessary. By the time he reached out to steady himself on a low-hanging branch, pain was shooting up his leg. Albert leaned against the trunk, wrapping one arm around it to support himself. He looked toward his horse again, but this time he saw something that made his heart jump into his throat. There was another horse hidden in the trees, kitted with a well-worn saddle and bags.

Strangers, Albert had learned in his travels, were not always what he hoped. But there was, at least, a small chance they would be willing to bring his horse over and leave him be, probably a better chance than he had surviving all night while injured.

Albert didn’t hear the horse’s rider approach him from behind him until there was a pistol pushed up against his woolen hat. Fighting his body’s urge to flee, he mustered a thread of courage to speak. As calmly as he could, which he thought probably wasn’t very calm at all, Albert offered, “I’d be glad to hand over any money I have in my bag if you would bring my horse over.”

There was a grunt of surprise and the gun disappeared. “Mr. Mason, what in the hell are you doing out here?”

“Arthur Morgan, I have never been more glad to hear your voice.” Albert’s heart was still hammering against his ribs, but he laughed in relief nonetheless. He turned, moving awkwardly without being able to put much weight on his injured leg.

Arthur looked him up and down, then checked the sky where the sun was dipping behind the mountains, frowning deeply. “Not after the wolves again, were you?” 

Arthur moved in close and pulled Albert’s arm over shoulder. He was wonderfully warm as Albert leaned against him to hobble forward. “White-tailed ptarmigans. It’s a kind of bird—”

“I know it’s a bird,” Arthur interjected acidly.

“Oh.” Albert could feel Arthur’s shoulders tense with anger as he helped him towards level ground.

“You’re a goddamn idiot.”

Up to this moment, Albert had taken Arthur’s verbal annoyance to be little more than good-natured jabs at his inexperienced antics in the wilderness. He didn’t know what to say to that—it was a truth he couldn’t argue with. Arthur had fallen silent, though Albert guessed that had more to do with the sudden wheeze in his breathing than having nothing to say.

By the time they reached the bottom of the slope, Arthur looked drained from supporting him, a tinge of gray underlying his sun-weathered face. Albert pushed away and hobbled the last couple of steps to sit on another rock. “Thank you, friend. I think I can manage from here.”

That earned him a sharp look and a short, ill-tempered laugh from Arthur that ended in a cough poorly hidden in his sleeve. “I doubt that. You stay there while I make camp. I’m not gonna let you fall to your death trying to get off this mountain in the dark.”

Albert knew intellectually that was likely, but concern that he may be overburdening Arthur overshadowed better sense. He couldn’t do a thing but watch anxiously as a tent was set up and a fire started for him. There was something stiff and deliberately subdued about the way Arthur moved, as much as he tried to hide it, and Albert was starting to understand.

“Okay, let’s see about that leg,” Arthur said, indicating that he should take off his boot.

Getting it off was painful, but the cold air offered a bit of relief. Albert rolled his sock down and discovered it looked just as bad as it felt. He moved his foot experimentally. “I don’t think it’s broken. I suppose it looks worse than it is.”

Arthur watched, but thankfully didn’t touch it. “Yeah, I don’t think so either. You’ve got the devil’s luck,” he admitted. “Come on, let’s get you by the fire while I go find us something to eat.”

Arthur’s anger seemed to have calmed somewhat. Albert ventured an apology while he replaced his boot. “And here I am again in your debt.”

“Nah, you ain’t. Don’t mention it,” Arthur mumbled, after a moment of thought. He offered an arm to Albert, who took it but carefully avoiding leaning too much into him as they moved over the fire. 

The tent didn’t look like much, little more than a bit of canvas, but it would keep the snow off. The heat of the healthy fire, however, was extremely welcome. Albert took his gloves off to warm his hands over the flames as Arthur trekked into the trees with his bow. With their horses nosing through the snow for something to eat nearby and a spectacular amount of stars starting to appear overhead, Albert considered that the experience was turning out to be worth the minor injuries. The little camp was picturesque, and the company most enjoyable.

After a while, Arthur reappeared and crouched down by the fire holding two dead birds up for Albert to see. He was also holding the camera Albert had discarded out of desperation earlier, which he handed over carefully. “Got your birds.”

“I had hoped to see them alive, but this is better than nothing.”

Arthur seemed to be in a better mood as he stirred up the fire and started preparing the carcasses. “They don’t taste too bad if you season them right.”

Albert watch curiously as Arthur set aside a couple of perfect tail feathers, two of the few that were still white this late in the year. The process wasn’t nearly as messy as he expected, though that may have had more to do with finesse than anything. He caught Arthur glancing at him once, a faint smile on his tired face.

When the birds were seasoned and roasting in a concoction of mysterious herbs from Arthur’s saddlebag, he picked up the white feathers and handed them both to Albert. “Those are nice, you should keep them.”

Albert ran his fingers over the smooth barbs. “Quite nice, yes.”

“I’m sorry, about getting mad earlier. I just don’t like seeing you out here on your own all the time. I’m scared one of these days I’m gonna to find a corpse instead.”

“I see,” Albert tried to hide his surprise at the sudden show of vulnerability, afraid he might spook Arthur into silence if he said more.

“I’ve…lost a lot of people lately,” he continued quietly after a long pause. “People I care about. I thought maybe you wouldn’t be one of them after last time. Thought you’d go back to town and live a quiet life.”

Albert realized he was holding his breath, though he’d rather the discomfort than blundering into the wrong words.

“I’d…feel better…knowing that you were.” Arthur stumbled through the last part; it sounded like he wanted to say something different, but had shied away from a more painful truth.

Albert reached over, slowly, and took one of Arthur’s hands in his. He wove their fingers together and pressed his free hand over both. They still didn’t know each other terribly well, and it was risk, but one he felt he had to take or he would never get another chance. To his great surprise, Arthur let it happen. He wasn’t sure he would have when they first met a first months ago. “I can’t promise that…unless you would agree to come with me. Otherwise I’ll have to continue getting into trouble in order to spend time with you.”

Arthur appeared to be mulling over the offer. “You’re one hell of a smooth talker when you want to be, Mr. Mason.”

“Is it working?”

“I’ll…think about it.” Arthur seemed sincere, if hesitant. Albert suspected the real answer was no, even if Arthur didn’t fully realize it, yet it was nice to imagine a life of companionship.

“Good, good. I’m sure you have responsibilities to consider first, but you should write to me in the mean time.”

“I will do that.” Arthur smiled and squeezed his hand before moving away to tend the fire and take the birds off the spit. He hummed an unrecognizable tune that Albert found utterly charming.

Crawling into the tent later, Albert allowed himself to nurse a little bit of hope laying awake hours into the night. Arthur had fallen asleep almost immediately, without having taken a single bite of his meal, but that was a concern for another day. For now, they had this moment, isolated and content, pressed close against the cold.


End file.
